Damaged (S3E14)

No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another - Charles Dickens.

Dinner together in that quiet little Italian restaurant turned into a pattern. After a bad case, they'd end up in Mama Rosa's, at what had become their customary corner table, chosen by Pip so she could sit with her back to a wall. It was effortless to decompress with her and no matter how awful the things he'd seen or learned, Rossi would find himself looking forward to landing, already anticipating a delicious dinner in Pip's argumentative company. They hadn't strayed over the platonic boundaries since that night in her apartment and Rossi found himself easing into a close friendship with her. She was easy to talk to, for all that she insulted him with nearly every breath she took and argued with almost everything he said.

She had argued with him about going to Indianapolis by himself, and she argued with him again when he called to complain that Garcia had read Morgan and JJ in on what he was doing.

"I didn't want them involved," he griped, hand gripping his glass of scotch tightly in anger.

"Don't be thick, it doesn't suit you."

"What?" he couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice. She'd called him many things before, but never stupid.

"You're being pig-headed and arrogant. Grow up; you're old enough to know better."

"Excuse me?" he growled, his temper rapidly fraying. Jibes about his age aside, being told to grow up like he was a recalcitrant teenager just stoked the fire already burning.

"Look, I had a very small pile of fucks to give today and they're all gone, so you're shit out of luck if you think you're getting one," Pip said, her voice ratty. "You'll need their help, and you know it. Quit protesting something that's actually good for you."

Her sharpness cut through the anger that had risen as soon as Garcia called him. It had been a while since he'd earned that particular tone, and Rossi started to wonder if it was actually him she was pissed off at. He let his breath out in a huff of frustration and the death grip he had on his glass eased as his ire started to drain away, replaced instead by concern for Pip.

"Garcia rang to tell me they were coming," he grumbled. "I'd like to have at least finished unpacking before finding out everyone else was coming haring after me."

Pip snorted. "You're a neat freak and you left your office a mess, thanks for that by the way, and Penny caved instantly when they started asking questions. I love her, but she can't keep a secret. I was going to warn you the team were on their way, but she beat me to it."

"Apparently, they'll be here within the hour." Garcia had sounded rather contrite telling him that, although that could have been for the sight he'd seen when he'd knocked on her door the previous night. IT nerd Kevin Lynch clad only in a towel was not an appetising image as far as he was concerned, but clearly Garcia had other opinions on the matter.

"I know," Pip said, a trifle smugly. "Although I think she soft-pedalled that a bit. By my calculations, they already landed and are on their way to your hotel now."

"I'm overjoyed," he sneered, making sure she knew he was anything but. "I've just settled down with a scotch and now it looks like I won't even be able to have that in peace, either." He paused. "How do you know where they are?"

"Who do you think filed their flight plan? You lot wouldn't go anywhere unless I organised it first," she countered. "I booked your flight too, or did you forget?" she asked abruptly.

"And you went along with this...this intervention?" he spat the last word, his fury much abated but still bubbling beneath the surface.

"I do what I'm told."

Rossi chuckled despite himself and the anger which had been fading as they talked, finally evaporated. "Since when?" he asked with a smile. "You fight me at every turn."

"It's good for you, keeps you on your toes," she retorted. She sighed and when she spoke again, she was completely serious, all the bite gone from her voice. "Dave, I know this is a bad one, I know how long you've been carrying it around, and I know why." Pip hesitated. "Do they?"

"No." Rossi paused to take a sip of the drink in front of him. "I haven't talked about it with anyone." The unspoken "except you" sat between them on the line, a silent admission of just how close they'd become in such a relatively short period of time.

"Go easy on them when they arrive," said Pip eventually. "They're just worried. So am I, frankly, but at least I know what's going on. They don't."

"I'll try. Thanks Pip." He felt better for speaking to her, but now wanted to know what had rattled her cage so badly, because by then he was convinced it wasn't anything to do with him. Rossi glanced up from contemplation of his glass and groaned. "JJ's in the lobby."

"Be nice." Pip chuckled. "I'll see you when you get back."

"You'll wait?"

"Count on it."

Rossi hung up, took a fortifying gulp of scotch, and waited for JJ to spot him. It didn't take long.


The Galen case had hung around his neck like a millstone for so many years that Rossi felt about a hundred pounds lighter as he trotted down the steps from the jet. That feeling lasted right up until he pushed open the doors to the BAU and realised Pip wasn't there waiting for him like she said she would. Feeling a little lost, Rossi dropped the case files and his briefcase onto his desk and just stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. It felt like he'd been stood up and that hadn't happened since he was in college. He knew from the work he'd been doing on the plane that she was still in the office, or at least, had been half hour previously. Despite that, she was nowhere to be seen.

Now what?

Rossi caught a flash of movement by the elevator out of the corner of his eye, and recognised her long hooded coat. He intercepted the elevator doors just as they were closing and slipped in to stand beside her.

"Were you going to stand me up?" he asked, only partly joking. He tried not to sound out of breath, but his time from office to elevator was definitely a personal best, if not an all-time record. He glanced sideways at her. Unusually for the office, her hair was down, long chestnut waves hiding her face from him. "We're supposed to be going out to celebrate."

"I can't. Not tonight," Pip said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Concerned now, Rossi moved to stand in front of her. Pip turned her head away and looked down at the floor.

"That's the first thing you've said to me since I've known you properly that wasn't frustratingly argumentative, unbelievably bossy or on some level, insulting," he said, trying to make his tone lightly teasing. "I've gotten used to that. But you were trying to leave without saying anything and now you won't even look at me." Rossi tried to lift her chin to see her face, but Pip backed away from his hand, moving out of reach. "I want to know what I've done wrong."

"Not everything is about you," she snapped, moving to step around him as the elevator doors opened.

Stunned momentarily by the harshness with which she spoken, Rossi almost missed the darkness on her face between locks of her hair as she passed him. Almost. Pip had been careful to keep her face turned away, but not quite enough. Rossi took two large paces forward and grabbed her arm, releasing it just as quickly when she hissed in pain. He held onto her shoulder when she tried to turn away from him again.

"Pip?" Rossi tried to sound gentle, but he was starting to get really worried. "Come on, you know you're not going to get rid of me that easily."

She looked at him then, brushing the hair from her face. The bruising around her right eye was a deep purple, fading to blue at her brow line. The mark on her jaw was lighter but no less painful-looking.

The sight of her, of his friend all beaten up, took him from anxious to angry in the space of a heartbeat. "Who did this?" he hissed furiously, the hand on her shoulder tightening involuntarily. "Who hurt you?" He was going to find out, then he was going to mete out some good old-fashioned eye-for-an-eye retribution for what had been done to her.

"I don't need you to be my knight in shining armour to come and rescue me," she spat, knocking his hand away. "I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself." Pip huffed and folded her arms defensively across her chest. "I knew you'd react like this, why do you think I didn't want you to see? I was going to call you when I got home, I didn't realise you'd be back from the airstrip already."

For some reason, her anticipation and acceptance of his visceral reaction calmed him down a little. "What happened?" Rossi asked, a little more composed than before.

Pip shook her head. "It's nothing. He got in a few licks before I restrained him, that's all."

"Who?" He still needed to know, and her dismissal of the whole incident was starting to really aggravate him. "It wasn't on the job; you're not in the field."

The look she gave him came with some of the sass he'd got used to enjoying. "Gee, thanks for the reminder," she said sarcastically, "sometimes I forget." Pip shook her head again. "Give up, Dave. This conversation isn't happening. I won't tell you because it doesn't matter."

"Matters to me," Rossi muttered. But he knew he wouldn't win, he never did with her. That was part of the reason she fascinated him, because she was even more stubborn than he was. She could teach stubbornness to rocks. "Look," he said in a more conciliatory tone. "I was looking forward to a proper baked ziti with a celebratory glass of vintage red and this has got in the way. I'm more than a little pissed off, on both fronts."

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Well, how about this? If you promise not to mention it, ask me questions about it, refer to anything possibly on the subject of it, or attempt to get a name out of me all evening, I'll let you take me to dinner." She gestured to her face. "Black eye and all." Her voice, while full of artificial saccharine sweetness, was forged steel underneath.

"With an offer like that, how can I possibly refuse?" he asked, heart lighter now that she was giving him attitude. It was a vast improvement on her behaviour in the elevator. Rossi smiled. He was a profiler after all, and he was fucking good at it. He wouldn't ask her, he'd work it out. Then, there'd be some payback.

He extended an arm in invitation. "Shall we?"

"My car's that way," she said, not taking the proffered arm and pointing in the opposite direction.

"And mine is this way. If I want to take a beautiful lady with a black eye to dinner, then I'm driving."

She laughed then, and linked her arm with his. "David Rossi, you old chauvinist!"

Rossi grinned. "Less of the old if you don't mind."


They ended up back at her apartment again that night. She lived close to Mama Rosa's, and Dave had wet pants. A drunken fan had seen to that, pouring the best part of a bottle of wine over him while trying to shake his hand as they were leaving.

Pip was still sniggering about it as she threw a pair of jogging bottoms at him and went to make coffee. Rossi retreated to her bathroom to shed his wet jeans, swapping them for the grey joggers she'd dug out for him. They were too large to be hers, but fit him fairly well. He hung up his jeans over the towel rail. They'd dry quick enough and the red wine wouldn't show too badly against the black denim once they had. At least he'd be able to get a cab without looking like he'd been drenched in Merlot, even if he might smell like it.

Looking around her living room, Rossi catalogued the changes since he'd last been there. The cat figurines on the shelf by the tv were new, undoubtedly from Garcia, who had a similar collection on her desk. There were new pillows and cushions on the sofa that didn't match the décor and the dent in the plaster by the door was new as well. The rug on the floor was different and there was a table lamp missing. Two forgotten shards of it still lingered under the coffee table. On closer examination, the open bottle of scotch on the side table next to him turned out to be a cheap blend, not one she would have bought. He knew her well enough to know what her favoured tipple was. The conclusion was as clear as it was unsettling.

"Damon came by, didn't he?" he asked when Pip returned. She nearly threw the coffee over him instead of handing it to him as she twitched in surprise. That was enough to confirm his deduction.

"I hate profilers," she muttered, throwing herself down on the sofa next to him. "I told you not to mention it again."

"We've already eaten so you can't refuse me now." Rossi laid a gentle hand on her arm. "One more thing, then I promise to avoid the subject forever more." Until he was satisfied Damon wasn't going to hit her again, at least. "Did he hurt you anywhere else? Other than this?" he asked, softly brushing her hair away from the bruises on her face.

"You already know, I know you do. I know you noticed," Pip said, rolling up her sleeves. "Did I mention I hate profilers?" she added.

On each of her arms were matching bruises in the shape of finger marks, encircling both biceps as if someone had grabbed her hard and held her tightly. She was right; he'd known they were there. It didn't make them any easier to see.

"Tell me he's locked up somewhere," Rossi growled, his attempt at calm and supportive over-ridden by his outrage.

Pip rolled her eyes. "So much for not talking about it," she replied, pushing her sleeves back down. Rossi just looked at her, still waiting for an answer. "Yes!" she cried. "Yes, he's locked up, now can we talk about something else?"

They talked into the night and instead of going home, Rossi slept on her sofa. He told himself it was because he looked ridiculous in jogging bottoms when he still had his blazer and shirt on, but deep down he knew it wasn't. His jeans would have dried hours ago. He wanted to make sure she was safe and in his mind, sleeping in her living room between her and the front door, helped with that.